


The Second Session

by radioqueen



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Bondage, Crueltide, Early Sessions, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Hair-pulling, Having sex with a patient, Joan Bright accidentally violating all the therapist rules, Mind Control, Not sitting in SOLER position, Oops, Shibari, Teasing, Therapist/Patient, Therapy, Wildly Inappropriate Self-Disclosure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:24:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9006658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radioqueen/pseuds/radioqueen
Summary: "You keep scotch in your office?""I bought it after my second session with Damien."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maypop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maypop/gifts).



Joan rubbed her eyes, sighing deeply. Her recorder sat on the desk in front of her, next to her unopened yogurt and a box of plastic spoons.

“This is—tentatively—my second session with Patient #5. Male, 27… that’s all I really know about him. The patient is fifteen minutes late, which doesn’t surprise me. Actually, I’m sort of hoping that he doesn’t show. Last session, I had a difficult time with appropriate self-disclosure. In fact, it was anything but appropriate! I have never…” She inhaled deeply. “I have never had so much trouble filtering myself in my entire life, much less with a patient. I found myself talking about my other patients, my personal life, even my private sexual interests. It’s a little fuzzy, and truthfully, I was too chagrined to finish listening to my audio notes from last time. The experience was… unnerving. At the time, I desperately wanted to tell him everything, but now I have no idea what on earth I was thinking. I suspect he may be a unique Class A, although I can only guess at what powers he might truly have. This session, I’m going to be especially guarded when self-disclosing. In fact, I may avoid disclosing anything about myself at all—”

There was a knock on the door, and then it opened before Joan could respond.

“Hey, Dr. B.” Damien walked in and slammed the door behind him. “What up?”

“I—nothing. I was just waiting for you.” She took a deep breath, trying not to let on how flustered she was by his sudden appearance. “You know, after 15 minutes, I reserve the right to cancel the session.”

“Aw, you don’t want to do that.” He threw himself onto her couch, putting his feet on the arm. “You don’t mind if I keep my shoes on while I prop my feet up, do you?”

“Well—” She started to say that yes, she did mind, but suddenly she just wanted him to be comfortable. “Not at all.”

“Thanks! So kind of you.” He wiped a bit of mud from his sole onto the upholstery; it was as enticing as it was infuriating. “How’s your week going, Dr. B.?”

“Oh, uh, it’s going… well. Yes.” She had a sudden compulsion to cross her legs, something she never did in therapy. She fought the urge and remained in proper SOLER position, like any good therapist would. “I don’t have much to say about it. Just a normal week.”

“Anything new with your other patients?”

“You know I can’t discuss my other patients with you,” Joan said, becoming cagey again.

They sat in silence for a moment. Joan became increasingly agitated, longing to tell him about her other clients the way she used to crave a cigarette. She bit her lip, absently crossing one leg over the other. Damien smirked.

“My pyrokinetic patient started another fire during our session,” Joan blurted out. “I’m having a hard time helping them control their abilities. ”

“Is that so?” he asked. “That’s too bad. I’m sure you’ll figure it out, though. You’re a smart lady.”

She flushed at his praise, and she hated herself for it. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Any new patients since last week?”

“Only you.”

“Oh.” He looked disappointed.

“Surely you don’t come here just to talk about my other patients, Damien. What’s on your mind?”

“You, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I’m still curious about you. I’m not exactly used to opening up to someone, you know? So maybe if you open up and tell me more about yourself, it’ll make me more comfortable and I’ll be able to relate to you and all that. It sure helped a lot last week.”

“I see.” Joan chewed on the inside of her lip. “What do you want to know?”

“Have you thought any more about our conversation last week?”

“No. To be honest, I don’t remember a lot about our last session.”

“I do have that effect on people sometimes.” He grinned. “See, Doc, I have this problem where women just throw themselves at me.” He sat up straight, spreading his legs open to take up most of the couch. “It wouldn’t be so bad, but then they don’t remember much after they do it. Freaks ‘em out, you know? Makes it hard to get a second date.”

“Hm. That must be hard.” Joan didn’t bother keeping the sarcasm out of her voice.

“I’m not a bad guy, Doc. I don’t want to have to psychically roofie every girl I bang, you know? But I don’t know if it’s even me doing it. Women just find me… irresistible. But it’s only the women I think are hot, for some reason. Weird, right?”

“And do you find me... ‘hot’?” Joan tried not to stare at the bulge inside one leg of his cargo pants. She tried to force her eyes away, but they refused to cooperate.

“Hey, my eyes are up here, Doc,” Damien teased.

“I’m sorry, Damien,” she said. “I have no idea what’s wrong with me. This is _not_ how I generally act with my patients.”

“That’s all right,” he drawled. “It’s only natural. Like I said, women just seem to throw themselves at me all the time.” He reached down to adjust himself inside his pants, smirking again as he watched her eyes dart desperately to the spot. “I have the hardest time talking to a good-looking woman without her taking her shirt off or something. You don’t want to take your shirt off or anything, do you, Dr. Bright?”

She did. She’d never wanted anything so badly. She took a shuddering breath and nodded.

“Well, it is a little hot in here,” he said. “I promise not to tell anyone if you take it off.”

“It’s… it really wouldn’t be professional,” she said.

“Sure it is! It would make me feel more comfortable. That’s what you want, right, Dr. B.? To make your patients comfortable talking to you?”

“Yes... “ She unbuttoned her silk blouse, one button at a time.

“Attagirl.” He patted his lap. “Maybe you want to come straddle me?”

She did, so badly. She rose from her seat, as if in a dream, and stood in front of him. She hiked her skirt up so she could climb onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his shoulders for balance.

“Nice.” He squeezed her breast through the silvery bra. “Very nice.”

“Uh… thank you.”

“I brought you a present. I hope you don’t have a policy against patients giving you little gifts.” He reached into the backpack beside him. “I went shopping after our conversation last week. You still want me to work my shibari skills on you?”

Her whole body felt like an ember, radiating heat into him. “Did I really say I was interested in that?”

“Yeah, you did.” He held up a coil of slippery rope. “You want me to?”

She blew out a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling. She should say no. She should stand back up and refer him to a different therapist, one who could appropriately enforce boundaries without becoming so overwhelmed by their attraction for Damien that they—

“Yes. Please.”

The two of them fell silent as he looped the rope around her neck, making an elaborate knotted frame for her breasts, stomach, and arms (which he secured behind her back). When he was done, he pulled her breasts out of the bra cups and sucked on one hard nipple. Joan gasped but tried to keep quiet otherwise.

“How does that make you feel?” he asked, the smugness evident in his voice.

“Don’t forget who’s supposed to be the patient here,” she said.

“Oh come on. We’re beyond that at this point.” He reached under her skirt, and his annoying, self-satisfied expression intensified when he felt how soaked she was. “Feels good, then, Doc?”

“Yes, well, you are stimulating my erogenous zones. There are so many highly pleasurable nerve clusters and—”

He sucked on the other nipple, grazing his teeth over it this time. She moaned.

“That’s better,” he said.

He continued to stroke her through the wet cotton of her underwear, sucking and biting her exposed nipples. By the time he finally pushed the fabric out of the way and stuck two fingers inside her, she was ready for him.

“Yes!”

“That’s it, Doc. Damn, you’re squeezing my fingers like a pro. You’re not as prudish as you look, are you?”

She closed her eyes and sighed in pleasure. “Damien…”

“Feels wrong, huh?”

“What?”

“Doesn’t it feel wrong to let a client finger you on your therapy sofa? To let a client truss you up like some old-timey kidnapper?”

She froze for a moment, her eyes opening. “Good lord,” she breathed. “What am I doing? This is completely inappropriate…”

“You know what would be even more inappropriate?” He took scissors from his bag. “If I cut those panties off you and let you ride my dick.”

She opened her mouth to protest, and he immediately stuck his fingers in her mouth. She cleaned her own wetness off them and, somewhere in the process, changed her mind.

“I want you to fuck me,” she said. “Please, Damien. I want you inside me so badly I can’t stand it. I can’t think of anything else. Please fuck me right here, right now.”

“That’s the spirit.”

He cut the fabric away from her skin and then unzipped his pants. She rubbed herself against him, unable to control herself. He finally positioned her the way he wanted her and pulled her down onto his erection. There was no resistance; she was too wet, too eager, too intensely hot down to her core.

“Damn, you’re wetter than most girls,” he said. “I think you’re the first who’s really wanted it.”

She could feel her embarrassment, but it was buried under her intense arousal. Shame wasn’t the only reason she felt feverish. “Shut up and fuck me, Damien.”

He laughed. “Whatever you want, Doc.”

His fingers grasped her hips, lifting her up and pulling her back down over and over again. She felt used, like an object, and somehow (somehow!) that only made her more excited. Damien made up for it by kissing her mouth and biting her neck and breasts. Her skin was so sensitive around the ropes that she was nearly ticklish—a detail he noted immediately and exploited soon after.

“Here?” He scratched her lightly with one fingernail underneath the rope looping around her ribs.

“Ah! Damien, please…”

He sucked hard on her neck, his tongue soothing the skin as he worked. She wiggled her arms, but he’d tied her without mercy, leaving no room for any real movement. He stroked along the rope lines he’d drawn around her, making her gasp and squirm. The helplessness drove her to the edge of sanity, making her struggle until the ropes cut into her skin.

“I want you to feel so good, Doc,” he said into her ear.

He bit her earlobe, and his thumb found her swollen clit. She came almost by accident, crying out in surprise even as she squeezed tight around him.

“Damien!”

With her arms restricted, the sensations echoed through her more intensely. His free hand cupped the back of her neck and anchored her by the hair, keeping her from accidentally bumping against him.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” he muttered. And then— “Get off me. Now. Oh shit...”

“No… I want you to finish inside me.” What was she saying? She should have been panicking about that possibility. But instead, she desperately wanted to keep riding him hard and fast until she milked him fully, letting him pulse deep inside her as he filled her up...

“No, no, no…” He groaned in frustration. “Not without a condom. Not when you’re not on the pill. Get on your knees and suck me off.”

She whimpered, reluctant to do what he said for some reason. His nostrils flared. He squared his shoulders, as if reinforcing his own will, and then he grabbed her by the hair.

“I said, get on your knees and suck me off!” He forced her onto the carpet.

Once she was off of him, it didn’t take long for her to desperately need him in her mouth. Four quick thrusts later, he was shooting his bitter load against the back of her throat. She swallowed immediately, surprised somewhere under her haze of lust. Normally, she wasn’t even a fan of blowjobs, and she’d never swallowed before in her life. But today she was greedy for it. There was nothing she wanted more.

“Oh, yeah, that’s it…” Damien held her head down, watching her intently through half-open eyes.

He finally pushed her away and slumped back against the sofa. He wiped the last bit of his cum across her cheek and over her nose, marking her. He continued sitting there while she rose and sat on his lap with her back to him. He took his time untying her.

“Need anything?” she asked as she stretched her arms.

“Yeah, a glass of water would be nice.”

She brought him a glass of water and waited on him while he slurped it noisily.

“Thanks, Dr. B.” He stuffed himself back inside his pants and rose, dropping his empty paper cup on the carpet. “See you next week. I’ll take care of Sarah for you on my way out. You’re welcome.”

He shouldered his backpack and left, saying something to Sarah on the way out. When Joan peeked out of the office door, Sarah was grabbing her purse and following Damien outside.

Joan hurried into the office bathroom to inspect the damage. Her neck was covered in bruises and hickeys, and her hair was a mess. With a grimace, she splashed water on her face, cleaning the evidence off without affecting her eye makeup. After dabbing her face dry with a paper towel, she returned to her office and rummaged through her purse until she found a scarf. It didn’t really match her outfit, but desperate times called for desperate measures. At least it was already after 4:00, and she had no more patients for the day.

“So much for appropriate self-disclosure,” she muttered.

She left early, grabbing a bottle of scotch on her way home. It officially moved into her office filing cabinet first thing the next morning, along with a pack of cigarettes and a pair of tumblers. She had a feeling she was going to need it the next time Damien dropped by.


End file.
